


If You Love Me

by ninwrites



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 2A compliant, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Budding Love, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Feels, For Lu, Gift Fic, Implied Sexual Content, Introspection, Love Confessions, M/M, Magnus Bane's Omamori Charm, Personal Growth, Pre-Relationship, Reflection, Season/Series 01, Season/Series 02, Song fic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wordcount: Over 10.000, perimeter scene, pre-2B, slight implied/referenced homophobia, slightly divergent, this is the shadow world after all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 05:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13897701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninwrites/pseuds/ninwrites
Summary: Alec isn’t like anybody that Magnus has dated before, unlike anyone he’s ever met, and it’s terrifying and exhilarating and more than Magnus knows what to do with





	If You Love Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notcrypticbutcoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notcrypticbutcoy/gifts).



> Admin + thanks in the end notes. Title from and fic based off 'Say It First' by Sam Smith
> 
> \--
> 
> This is a birthday gift for the darling, beautiful, fantastically talented and gorgeously kind-hearted [Lu](http://archiveofourown.org/users/notcrypticbutcoy/pseuds/notcrypticbutcoy); we've been friends for years, but there is not a day where I am not grateful beyond words for your presence in my life. You've helped me and supported me through so many things in my life, and in my writing, and you're without a doubt one of my closest friends. 
> 
> Over time I have gotten to see you and your writing thrive, and I couldn't be prouder; you're magnificent, and I hope your day is just as. I love you. Thank you for being you, and here's to many more birthdays, and many more years of friendship together <3 
> 
> I hope you enjoy your gift xx

 

 

**_I never feel like this. I’m used to emptiness in my heart, and in my arms._ **

****

Alec Lightwood is an enigma, and not one that Magnus should want to crack.

 

He told himself when he left London that he wouldn’t interfere with Shadowhunter business, not when he had no stake in it; the Shadowhunters were better off in their own world, causing their own destruction. He much preferred his own company, both figuratively and literally – his reputation for being better than the best was spreading around the Downworlder community, and Pandemonium was as bustling and thriving as the music it pumped each night.

 

It wasn’t the best life, and there were many nights he spent staring out at the expanse of New York, wishing he had someone to fill the quiet spaces with, but it was a good life, and he was content, if not happy.

 

He wasn’t looking for a Shadowhunter to come bursting into his life, to come save it, before stuttering his way through an introduction that did more to Magnus’ heart than any half-clad beauty had in Pandemonium for months.

 

If that isn’t bad enough, the same Shadowhunter is now sprawled out on his couch, tipsy and dazed from one too many martinis. He looks infuriatingly sweet, with his dark hair tousled against his forehead, face slack and open, free from the rigidity that pulls at his muscles like a puppet’s strings.

 

Magnus doesn’t know why he’s let the Shadowhunter sleep on his couch, it wouldn’t be too exhausting to portal him back to the Institute – but then, Magnus isn’t entirely sure why he asked for Alexander in the first place, either. There’s just something about him, a quality, that draws Magnus, to his pretty doe eyes and his curved pink lips and the golden heart that beats behind aching ribs.

 

There’s an innocence behind the stoicism, a sense of care behind the righteous duty, an intention of pure good behind the scowl that marks his forehead. Alec is nothing like Magnus expected from a Shadowhunter, and as charming as that is, it’s also dangerous.

 

It’s dangerous for Magnus to have these stirrings, dangerous for him to even entertain the idea of kissing the spot between Alec’s eyes, his apple cheeks or his innocent smile. Of all the bad ideas in the universe, letting a Shadowhunter into his heart is considerably high up there, along with sneaking back into Peru, discussing his romantic life with Ragnor, and sitting on a cactus.

 

(It’s possible that Magnus is a little tipsy too.)

 

It’s rather improper, he concludes, to be watching the eldest Lightwood as his chest rises and falls with each tiny bout of snores, but he can’t find it in himself to glance away, either. There’s something so … enchanting about the man, more than just his looks, which are to be frank drop-dead-gorgeous, but to the soul inside. He’s so honest, and earnest, and _good_ , which aren’t qualities Magnus would easily attribute to a Shadowhunter.

 

Of course, Alec just has to be the kind who’s got more surprises than can fill his pockets. If he even has pockets. They’d certainly only be for function, and definitely not fashion, the poor boy doesn’t even look as though he’s put a brush through his hair for a good week, but then that probably isn’t on the Shadowhunter priority list, not when there’s demons to hunt and evil to thwart, etcetera.

 

Alec rolls over, interrupting Magnus’ stream of consciousness, his elbow knocking against the back of the couch, knees hunched up to his chest. Magnus had altered the couch to fit Alec’s stupidly, attractively long frame, yet he’s still folding himself up, so that he’s barely taking up the space that he needs.

 

It’s heartbreaking, because Magnus can see what he’s doing, even if Alec can’t; he’s trying to take up as little space as possible, not because he’s physically imposing, but because he’s scared of intruding, scared of rocking the boat so much that people _notice_ what he’s trying so desperately to keep hidden.

 

Magnus knows, and not because he has a radar for it, but because he can see it behind the fear in Alec’s eyes, he can see the longing, the desperation and desire for something so bad, for a second it overcomes the terror; just as he sees reality crashing back down on Alec’s shoulders, rocks upon boulders pushing him down until he’s rooted in the foundations of his world, unable to move through the unspoken rules, trapping him like quicksand.

 

It buries beneath Magnus’ skin, an itch he can’t reach – he remembers what it’s like, to be young and out of touch with who you really are, because it doesn’t fit who you’re supposed to be, doesn’t make sense with what you’re told to be.

 

For him, it was like standing on the edge of a cavern, knowing that if he jumped, he had just as much of a chance to make it to the other side, as he did to crash to the bottom. Fortunately, he caught the edge with nail-bitten teeth and dragged himself up, because he refused to let himself fall towards his demise when he had the chance to make a future for himself, where he was happy and safe and comfortable.

 

He’s still not quite there, yet, it seems to be a Rubix cube; he can never be all the things he yearns for at once, and at the moment, that’s safe and comfortable. He’s content, but not truly happy – and he can tell that Alec isn’t, either.

 

Maybe that’s why Magnus is drawn to him, amongst other, more superficial reasons, because there’s something _familiar_ about his haunted eyes, something torturously relatable about the way he puts himself last to protect those he loves the most.

 

 _Trust it to be the one with his heart tucked under his sleeve,_ Magnus thinks _, to be the catalyst that has me opening my own, when I swore I never would._

 

* * *

 

**_You’re not what I’m used to._ **

“I’m sorry,” Is the first thing that Alec says, once they’ve rounded the corner.

 

Magnus doesn’t understand what he’s apologising for, but then, he is a little shaken, waltzing around his psychotic ex-girlfriend’s manor, mere hours after Alec had stormed down the aisle of his own wedding and kissed Magnus with more gust and passion than a first kiss has any right to hold.

 

First kisses should be awkward and fumbling and sweet and fun – they shouldn’t leave you desperate for a thousand more, for something just as perfect as the first. They shouldn’t have Magnus’ foundation weak and shaking, shouldn’t have him pushing down on a gnawing ache inside his core, yearning for the press of Alec’s damn perfect lips against his own, the almost-protective grip of Alec’s strong hands in his blazer.

 

Magnus shakes his head, forcing himself to the present, where Alec is refusing to look at Magnus, one hand clenched around his bow, the other tapping erratically against the doorframe. There’s no one down this hallway, nobody down the connecting three either, if Magnus’ magic is being truthful, as it’s known to be.

 

They should talk. Alec looks like he wants to, like he wants to broach the silence, but he’s too frightened of what might be said. Magnus understands, and it’s because of that, because he knows what it’s like to be where Alec is, that has him summoning the courage to speak up first.

 

“I’m not sure what you’re apologising for, Alexander-“ The name tastes sweet on his tongue, but sour against his lips. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

 

Alec frowns, _tap, tap, tapping_ against the frame. “It feels like it.” A moment later, he shoots a glance over his shoulder, eyes wide and stricken in touching worry. “I don’t regret it, I promise, I know it wasn’t clear when you asked, with everything that happened to Lydia I wasn’t focusing, but I _promise_ I don’t regret it.”

 

He frowns. “Just, the setting. That could have been better.”

 

Magnus nods, understanding Alec’s point even as his heart screams in protest. Of course, Alec regrets kissing him in front of his family, his people, the poor darling outed himself in a spectacular that the Shadowhunters wouldn’t have seen since Benedict Lightwood became Benedict Lightworm, and William Herondale rubbed the proof of demon pox in their snobby noses.

 

Magnus understands, but that doesn’t ease the pain.

 

“There was so many,” Alec waves his hand, resting his shoulder against the wall. “So many people. Staring. Like it was any of their business.” He glances over at Magnus, eyes wide with innocence, and a sharply contrasting sense of wisdom. “I don’t have a lot of experience, but even I know that’s not how first kisses should go.”

 

“And how should they go?” Magnus asks, unconsciously folding his arms over his chest.

 

Alec frowns, even as a tiny smile picks up the corner of his mouth. “You know, first kisses, they should be – more personal. Quieter. Intimate.”

 

“Intimate?” Magnus raises an eyebrow, heart spinning. “Okay, Alexander, I’ll bite; if you could redo our first kiss, how would it go? How would _you_ have done our first kiss, given the chance?”

 

Alec rubs the back of his neck, cheeks red like a wildfire. “I’d have taken you on a date, like you deserve – a proper date, where I come to your door, and you look so amazing that I stutter over a compliment, and then I take you to somewhere fun, like the Hunter’s Moon, and you laugh when I can’t handle my drink, and I try and beat you at pool, and at the end of the night, when we’re standing outside of your apartment, I nervously ask if you if I can kiss you-“

 

“And I whisper yes,” Magnus feels lightheaded. “Because I’ve been wanting to ask you the entire night, but I thought it improper to do so.”

 

Alec smiles, dizzy and warm, ducking his gaze towards the musty carpet. “Maybe in another life, we got that perfect first kiss.”

 

“I quite like the one we had,” Magnus admits, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Admittedly, I could have done without the audience, but it wasn’t a bad kiss, Alec.”

 

Alec’s blush reaches molecular combustion, cheeks so red they could stop traffic, and it’s the second most endearing thing Magnus has ever seen, second only to the dazed smile Alec had given when they first met.

 

“Have you thought about it, Alexander?” Magnus takes a slow step forward, straying against the wall opposite Alec. “Our first kiss. Our would-be, first kiss.”

 

“I, um-“ Alec stares up at the wall, the deflect rune on his neck stretched and stark. Magnus swallows. “Would it be weird if I said that I had thought about kissing you … really, thought about it since the day we met?”

 

“No,” Magnus whispers through his grin. “Because I’d done the same.”

 

Alec doesn’t look like he believes Magnus, not because Magnus would be lying, but rather, because he doesn’t believe that anyone would want to kiss him, let alone think about it so extensively.

 

“Really?”

 

“Alexander,” Magnus thinks about how that first smile had been a knock, the second a key, the kiss a turn of a lock. “The only thing that stopped me from kissing you, after you stayed for drinks, was the fact that I knew you weren’t comfortable being attracted to men. I refuse to make others uncomfortable, certainly not for the benefit of my own wants.”

 

“I wanted to kiss you, too.” Alec laughs, and it sounds like sweet shards of toffee. “I was … frightened, by how badly – by how strong, my, my attraction was, but for a second-“ He inhales deeply. Magnus takes a step. “For a second, I entertained it.”

 

“And now?” Magnus dips his shoulder, inclining his head until his gaze is locked with Alec’s. “After you have, kissed me – what are you thinking now?”

 

Alec’s tongue swipes against his bottom lip, teeth poking out the corner in the flash of a smile. “Now,” He steps forward, his long reach bringing him a few tantalising inches from Magnus. “Now, I’m thinking that I’d quite like to do it again.”

 

It’s a curse of the universe, that they’re not given a chance.

 

* * *

 

 

**_You keep me guessing with things that you do. I hope that they’re true_ **

 

The omamori charm is so tiny, barely the size of his palm, and yet it takes up so much space, so much _meaning_ ; the gold details shine under the light of Magnus’ magic, illuminated beneath the blue that sparks from his fingers.

 

It seems legitimate, not that he’d think Alec would gift him something fake, but rather that their quick trip may have resulted in Alec being lured by a charm that is more eye-catching than it is authentic.

 

But there’s an energy to it, a thrum of hope and light within the fabric that calls to something special, something sacred. It’s a nice analogy, Magnus ponders, letting the magic fade from his fingertips; there’s something more than just attraction between them, certainly from Magnus’ side, there’s something stronger, something that tugs at every string his poor heart has.

 

It hadn’t taken Alec much time to become a surprisingly important part of Magnus’ life – they’ve only been on two dates, for all intents and purposes, but he already feels a hollow ache when he looks towards the balcony doors, where Alec parted a few hours past.

 

Magnus hasn’t moved from the daybed, he hasn’t stopped staring at the charm between his fingers, mind whirring like a broken record, stuck on the same song. He can still feel the imprint of Alec’s lips against his, tentative and slow, yet torturously sweet, the careful weight of his hand on Magnus’ leg, the warmth radiating from his broad chest when he leaned in close, impossibly so.

 

Alec has been gone barely an hour, but the distance is driving Magnus crazy. He sighs, resting his head back. It’s ridiculous. He’s _being_ ridiculous,

 

Alec is gorgeous, yes, and he’s incredibly sweet and kind, generous and patient and _good_ , and a hundred other beautiful things, but they’re still in the earliest stages of dating, everything is new and exciting and fun, and Magnus doesn’t want to ruin that, just because he _misses_ Alec. He needs to get a grip, he’s an embarrassment to himself, he’s never been this lovesick – no, not lovesick, because lovesick implies things far heavier than he’s ready for, but the sentiment is similar.

 

Not the same, because Alec isn’t like anybody that Magnus has dated before, unlike anyone he’s ever _met_ , and it’s terrifying and exhilarating and more than Magnus knows what to do with.

 

The omamori is just one example of the million ways Magnus has surprised him, but such an important one too; Magnus won’t ever be able to forget Alec’s excited _“this is for you”_ , the almost-childlike excitement to see Magnus’ reaction, the pride that glowed when he explained the meaning.

 

 _Luck & protection_. The first gift that Alec ever gets Magnus, off his own desire is a charm to give Magnus luck, _protection_ , not because Magnus isn’t strong enough to protect himself, but because Alec … because Alec cares about Magnus enough to give him that extra bit more.

 

Nobody has ever given him a gift so considerate, so thoughtful – Magnus can’t remember the last time somebody gave him a gift, period. It’s unfamiliar, but not unwelcome – Magnus isn’t sure there’s anything he could say to Alec, that would be an adequate thank you. Nor does he think Alec would accept it.

 

Despite it being his first relationship, Alec is a marvel when it comes to sweet gestures, a true romantic at heart, and Magnus can’t deny that he’s quite fond of being doted on. It’s been a long time since anyone has looked at Magnus, the way that Alec does, intent and honest and open, his open heart on full display.

 

Magnus wants to warn him, that it’s dangerous to give his heart so freely, because Alec is too young to have his heartbroken, and Magnus has been careless with his own, he’s broken his own heart before, and that’s the last thing he wishes for Alec.

 

He’d never break Alec’s heart, he knows this, because breaking Alec’s heart would hurt worse than breaking his own, but relationships aren’t always light and breezy, and he can’t help but fear that Alec will get hurt.

 

The Nephilim aren’t prone to acceptance of things they don’t understand, and Alec’s hit two-for-two dating a male warlock, and one with a promiscuous, albeit false, reputation at that. Then of course there is the Downworld, who haven’t trusted the Shadowhunters since long before the ill-fated Accords were written and signed, and are loathe to trust a Lightwood, at least before they get to know him.

 

The odds of the latter happening are thin, and Magnus is a realist; if he and Alec want any chance at a true relationship, and by everything in him does Magnus want it, they must be realistic about their circumstances. There are people who don’t like them, who don’t like them together, who’ll hate the mere idea of them on principle – it won’t be easy to combat that, but Magnus knows the outcome would be worth it.

 

Not that he’s let himself think past the next few weeks, of course. He hasn’t thought about what it would be like to celebrate an anniversary, a holiday, to give Alec a key so that he can come and go as he pleases, to parting space in his closet for Alec’s clothes, to telling Alec-

 

 _God,_ he’s hopeless.

 

* * *

 

**_Cause I’m never gonna heal my past, if I run every time it starts_ **

 

 

They’re sitting out on the balcony, on the elongated daybed with an extortionate amount of pumped up cushions, pressed together beneath a blanket of stars hidden behind fog and planes with lights that flash through the shadow.

 

Beads of condensation slip down the neck of Alec’s beer bottle, melting against the glass surface of the table before them, but Magnus doesn’t mind the mess. His martini glass hangs from the ends of his fingers, half-filled with scarlet liquor and glitter rimmed, the taste of cherry and sour painting his lips.

 

The bump of Alec’s knee against Magnus’ thigh brings his attention sweeping, languid and sweet. There’s an apprehension to Alec’s gaze, but a determination to the quirk of his mouth that has Magnus curious before Alec’s even spoken.

 

Alec’s jaw works in circles, and Magnus’ patience is only so thin; he reaches out, resting his hand on top of Alec’s. “Penny for your thoughts?”

 

A staircase of thin lines crease Alec’s forehead, his hand unfurling beneath Magnus’. “I um, I wanted to ask you about something…”

 

Magnus places his glass on the glass table, twisting his torso until he’s facing Alec, hands linked in front of them. “Alexander, you know that you can ask me anything. I’m an open book where you are concerned.”

 

Alec fiddles with the flat ring on Magnus’ thumb, twisting it up to the knuckle. Whatever is on Alec’s mind is really bothering him.

 

“I wanted,” Alec swallows, the sound audible. “I wanted to ask you, about Camille.”

 

Just her name sends a spike of dread down Magnus’ spine, his shoulders rounding back. Alec squeezes his hand encouragingly, thumb stroking over the top – if Magnus wasn’t so shaken, he’d be melting beneath the attentive gesture.

 

As it is, he can barely feel the ground beneath his feet.

 

“I’m sorry,” Alec rushes. “I shouldn’t – I shouldn’t have asked, you don’t, you don’t have to tell me anything, I-“

 

“No.” It’s not a shout, not quite a whisper, but the corners are hard and the undertones weak and all that Magnus wants to do is curl beneath the covers and hold Alec so tight that nothing, _nothing_ can break the moment.

 

“You have every right to ask, Alexander.”

 

Alec inhales deeply. “You have the same right to not answer,” He points out. “I won’t put you through that, not if it’s going to hurt, or upset you. I’m curious, because I want to understand _you_ better, but I refuse to make it worse.”

 

Magnus closes his eyes, the weight of his memories, and the pain they carry, sending fissures through his ribs. Within the pain, is a glimpse, of light, and joy, a glimpse of something healing. Magnus focuses on that light, and lets it ground him, even as tears stick to the foundation on his cheeks.

 

“There are some things, that not even time can help the healing of.” Magnus whispers. Alec doesn’t speak, which Magnus is grateful for, more now than he’s ever been before. “Camille wasn’t heartbreak, she wasn’t lost love or the one that got away – she clawed my heart out of my chest, threw it on the ground right where I stood, and ground it into particles smaller than dust. She ruined me.”

 

“No,”

 

It’s Alec this time, who utters the low words. “Camille doesn’t get to have that control over you. Fuck her. You’re not, ruined, your-”

 

He doesn’t finish, the sentence hanging heavy and open-ended in the air between them, but Magnus can’t find any words either. He wants to ask, about what he is to Alec, what Alec sees in him that Camille didn’t, but his tongue is sticking to the roof of his mouth, liquor slick on his teeth, and no words could match the effect that actions do.

 

“Come here,” Magnus whispers, his lips parted just enough for the words to slip out. “Just, come closer.”

 

Alec does, even if he’s a little confused, which is fair, because Magnus’ mind has a tendency to jump ship as quickly as his priorities, and he’d rather not talk about Camille, or the hole she’d left in the remains of his heart.

 

Alec is here, right here, and he’s good and sweet and he’s not going to break Magnus’ heart, he’s not going to run off and cheat with a mundane, because he’s nothing like Camille. He’s different, and Magnus needs to remember that.

 

He cups Alec’s cheek, thumb stroking in idle sweeps. Alec’s eyes are a little red, the beginning effects of the alcohol taking their toll, but he’s clear-headed and on the sober-side-of-tipsy, and there’s a buzz between them that comes from somewhere deeper than their drinks can reach.

 

“Thank you,” Magnus whispers.

 

Alec frowns, his hand reaching out to settle on Magnus’ waist, fingers curled above his chunky belt. “For what?”

 

Magnus doesn’t shake his head, although the fond urge to do so is quite strong; instead, he just keeps _looking_ at Alec, until he knows he could count each individual green fleck in his hazel eyes, each fluttering lash and each time they sweep against his quickly reddening cheeks.

 

“For being so beautifully you,” Magnus explains, even though it doesn’t sum up everything he means. There are no words for how he feels, no way of expressing to Alec how much the simple act of caring is more than he’s experienced from a romantic partner in decades.

 

Alec is very new, to all of this, and Alec is new to Magnus. It’s a careful set of stones they’re hopping across, and Magnus won’t be the one who slips and falls, just because he was reckless. Age is supposed to bring wisdom, and if there’s anything he can learn from past relationships, and past mistakes, it’s to be careful.

 

He doesn’t want to lose what he has with Alec, doesn’t want to lose _Alec_ , and if that means that he focuses more on teasing his lips against Alec’s, on encouraging Alec to give as much as he takes, to lose himself in _feeling_ after so long of being locked inside of his own cage – then so be it.

 

Time is precious, and their time together will not be wasted.

 

* * *

 

**_So, come on baby, say it first. I need to hear you, say those words. If I’m all that you desire, promise there’ll be fire._ **

They’re sitting on the couch with some random mundane movie playing on the tv, Magnus’ hands fiddling idly with the ends of Alec’s hair, Alec’s head resting on his chest, his hips framed by Magnus’ legs. It’s more comfortable than it should be, and Magnus is pondering the likelihood of falling asleep, right there, when Alec’s phone buzzes obnoxiously on the coffee table.

 

Magnus groans, letting his hand fall to Alec’s shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. “Duty awaits, Shadowhunter.”

 

Alec glances at his phone but doesn’t move. In fact, he doesn’t move the entire time the phone buzzes, not even when it reaches a peak that has Magnus wanting to answer for him. Magnus is almost waiting for it to fall off the table.

 

“Wrong number?” Magnus asks, his fingertips curling against Alec’s collarbone.

 

“Nope,” Alec shifts, until he can look up at Magnus without straining his neck too much. “It was Jace.”

 

Magnus frowns. “You’re not worried? If Jace is calling, mustn’t it be serious?”

 

He knows that Jace is a clown at the best of times, Alec’s words, but if he’s calling Alec, there must be an emergency at the Institute, or something else that requires Alec’s immediate attention. It worries Magnus, that Alec _isn’t_ worried.

 

“He can handle it.” Alec wraps an arm around Magnus’ waist. “I’m off-duty.”

 

Alec leans up, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of Magnus’ mouth, eyelashes fluttering against pink cheeks, grin breaking like sun through glass – it’s too bad Magnus can’t enjoy it, because he’s still _confused_.

 

“Alexander,” Magnus presses a hand to Alec’s shoulder, keeping him in place. “What do you mean, you’re off-duty?

 

Alec’s grin widens. Magnus’ heart is in danger if this continues. “After all the bullshit Jace has been putting us through – you, especially - I figured we deserved at least a few hours to ourselves. Iz will call if I’m really needed, but I’m ignoring Jace’s calls on the grounds that I’d rather spend time with you than deal with his issues.”

 

Alec _‘you want me to give up my life for you’_ Lightwood, is choosing him, over his work, his duty. Magnus has to pinch himself.

 

“There’s being full of surprises, Alexander,” Magnus shakes his head. “And then there’s _that_.”

 

Alec’s fingertips trail against Magnus’ jaw, thumb catching the corner of his smile. “I’d much rather be here, than there.” He leans in, lips hovering above Magnus’. “Certainly, rather be with you, than Jace.”

 

Alec teases a kiss, soft and slow, pulling back far too quickly. Magnus wets his lips, one hand pressed to the small of Alec’s back, accommodating the somewhat awkward position they’ve found themselves in. “I certainly hope this isn’t how you spend your time with Jace,” Magnus mutters.

 

Alec swats his shoulder, nose screwing up so tight Magnus is expecting him to have permanent wrinkles henceforth. “Ew,” He whispers. “Ew, no, gross, Magnus – come on, I’m trying to be sweet and romantic, don’t ruin it by saying _that_.”

 

“My apologies,” Magnus pulls back, leaving space for Alec to fall back against the couch with a tiny nudge from Magnus. “How about I make it up to you?”

 

Alec loops his hand around Magnus’ neck, pulling him forward until Magnus is straddling his hips. “You are,” His gaze drops to Magnus’ lips. “Very distracting.”

 

Magnus quirks an eyebrow, slipping his hand beneath the front of Alec’s shirt, fingers splayed across his ribs. “I’m distracting? Alexander, you have abs crafted by angels, a heart to match and an infuriatingly sweet disposition; I think that title is all yours, love.”

 

The term of endearment slips out, and Magnus is too slow to catch it. He doesn’t … he _doesn’t_ , but it’s an older affection and one he’s prone to using; admittedly, he’s not prone to using it around Alec, but there’s always a time for everything.

 

“I, um,” Alec’s cheeks are bright, his touch hesitant as he traces patterns against Magnus’ collarbone. “I like that.”

 

“Really?” Magnus can feel Alec’s heartbeat beneath his palm, and it’s steady, but every other second it picks up; it’s reassuring to know that Magnus isn’t the only one. “You like it, when I call you ‘love’?”

 

Alec nods, ducking his head against Magnus’ arm. He presses a short kiss to Magnus’ bicep, over his shirt, before looking up, the heat having coursed down his neck. “It’s really, nice.” Alec shrugs. “I don’t know how to explain it, it just - it sounds nice, when you say it.”

 

There are other things Magnus could say, around the term of endearment, but he knows it isn’t the right time, knows that it would break the calm moment they’re sharing, and besides it’s too soon to scare Alec off, just because his feelings have reached deeper into his soul than they should have.

 

He swallows it down, squashes it back inside the tight box of his heart, where it’s safe, where it can’t do any harm, and focuses his attention on the present, where he has a charming Shadowhunter before him, who’d chosen him over the job he loves so dearly.

 

“As fond as I am of this revelation – and I am quite fond, I will certainly be using this information as often as possible,” Magnus kisses Alec’s cheek, and then his temple, peppering his face before returning to his lips. “I can think of much better things to be doing with my time, and my mouth.”

 

Alec swallows. “Flirt,” He says, voice an octave lower, hoarse around the edges. “Not that I’m complaining.”

 

Magnus isn’t either, not when Alec deftly unlatches the button of his shirt, not when Alec nips a mark below his collarbone, and certainly not when Alec whispers Magnus’ name against his ear.

 

It’s not enough to distract Magnus from his thoughts, not completely, but it’s a moment that he can ground himself in, and whilst he has Alec before him, he can’t think of anything better.

 

* * *

 

 

**_I know you’re right for me._ **

 

Magnus wakes first.

 

It’s surprising, given their jobs, and Alec’s self-confession at rising before dawn being a trait ingrained through his training, but Magnus doesn’t mind much, because the sun is warm against the golden sheets, and Alec is snoring, tiny and sweet.

 

Magnus still can’t believe this is real.

 

Any of it – Alec, here, his angel-carved abs beneath Magnus’ ringed hands, his shoulder pressed to Magnus’ bicep, his unruly dark hair tickling Magnus’ chin; he’s a little spoon, it seems, which isn’t as surprising as it is terribly endearing.

 

Magnus doesn’t mind, he’s never put a lot of weight on positions, simply craves the kind of touch that fills the hole behind his ribs, stretched by time and toxic relationships; he likes having Alec close.

 

The night before had been – bounds above anything that Magnus could have expected; he’d thought about it, before, because he’s half-human and not in the habit of denying himself life’s simplest pleasures, but no stretch of his imagination could have prepared him for the reality.

 

Stumbling through the door, all wandering hands and teasing lips, their laughter mingling in the air – there was no weight, to the situation, to the moment, no chains of guilt or expectation, just _them_.

 

There was a bit of a hiccup, here and there, but neither minded because they were having _fun_ , and somewhere in the last hundred years, Magnus had forgotten that the point of sex is supposed to be that. It’s supposed to be fun and light and imperfect and beautiful.

 

With Alec, Magnus was reminded of that.

 

Alec’s grace, where it shined, was admirable – but his cheeky _“Shadowhunter”_ comment had really driven Magnus’ heart into overdrive. It’s such a small, inconspicuous note, and obvious when pointed out, but feelings are rarely ever comprehensible and the dizzy, love-drunk smile that Magnus had felt, pressing his lips to Alec’s, was nothing to complain about.

 

It should have been something he kept an eye on, but Alec was _there_ , warm and vital beneath his fingertips, his hips aligned with Magnus’, his nimble hands plucking Magnus’ sweater and it was incredible and a little _too_ much at once.

 

The drop of his glamour had been a lot like the crash of a stage curtain – everything was pulled away, and there he was, the man behind the magic, the demon behind the man. Everything that he’d been scorned for, contained within golden flecks, everything he’d tried so hard to keep from Alec, shining and stark because he couldn’t _control_ himself.

 

Camille had called them exotic, in a way that meant peculiar, but Magnus had yearned to be _wanted_ so badly that he let it slide, let her blood-stained nails carve fading red marks across his cheeks, all the way down his neck to the littering of white scars that marred his torso.

 

Scars, he wasn’t afraid of Alec seeing, because Alec has them too, Alec comes from a life of violence and war, scars nothing more than battle memorabilia. Alec isn’t a stranger to the dichotomy of beautiful imperfection.

 

But a mark is more than that, it’s more than just a glimpse into the warlock’s soul – Magnus’ mark has been the bane of his existence more than it’s helped him; there’s no comparison between inflicting a slight fear in some, when his real eyes have almost gotten him kidnapped, slaughtered, ostracised entirely from casual society, and been the reason that his own mother killed herself, unable to bear the sight of her demonic son.

 

Not that Alec knows about any of this, of course, because Magnus isn’t going to ruin the best relationship he’s had, in a century at least, just because of a dark past that is better off left where it began.

 

If he had his way, he would have eased Alec into seeing his mark, settled him down and explained his past before letting the glamour fall away, giving Alec a chance to … make his judgement.

 

Instead, the moment became too heightened, and Magnus was pulled beneath the wave of pleasure, dragging his glamour with it. He barely remembers moving off Alec, his focus stretching no further than the fingers pressed into his eyes, forcing his glamour back, forcing his wards into place, though their resistance was steel.

 

He couldn’t have expected Alec’s response. Couldn’t have dreamed of it.

 

His instinctual worry that _he’d_ done something wrong, as though he ever could, that he’d done something that had made Magnus uncomfortable, that he’d, somehow, messed it up; when the reality was the complete opposite.

 

Alec has been more caring and attentive in the few weeks their relationship has existed, than previous partners Magnus had for months or years ever did. Magnus had been worried that he’d push Alec away, that taking this step would end in the kind of loneliness that stole the air from his lungs, air that Alec gave with a simple smile.

 

Removed from his failed relationships, came a responsibility _to_ Alec; it wasn’t just their first time, it was _Alec’s_ , and that’s a weight Magnus refused to shift. He had to be perfect, Alec deserved for it to be perfect, and more than that, Magnus wanted it to be – he wanted to give Alec the best first time he could.

 

Magnus didn’t have a great first time, and although his experiences afterwards ranged from mediocre to phenomenal, he never forgot, never shed the slick covering that his first experience had left him with.

 

He wanted to give Alec something better, not to stop before anything could even get started because he couldn’t control himself.

 

Not that Alec made a big deal out of any of it.

 

Alec was open to fixing whatever had happened, that lead Magnus to rolling off, he just wanted to make sure that Magnus was okay – but the biggest surprise had come from his reaction. Magnus never thought that Alec would call his mark ugly, or anything of the like, because it’s not in his nature, but there’s nothing he could have done to mask his initial reaction, and Magnus couldn’t let himself hope.

 

Of course, Alec just had to be full of surprises.

 

Magnus doubts he’d ever forget the way that Alec had looked at him, really looked at him, like there was something precious in his unglamoured eyes – “beautiful,” he’d called them.

 

_“You’re beautiful.”_

 

The way he said it wasn’t sleazy, wasn’t sly or come upon, the way that Magnus has heard it before. Alec said it like what he held beneath his hand was a treasure more rare than gold and platinum, as though he’d never seen anything more remarkable than Magnus’ true self.

 

For a moment, Magnus hadn’t been able to speak. He’d felt a tender smile curving, Alec’s calming pulse beneath his fingertips keeping his own heart in line, but there hadn’t been anything he could say to match, that would even come close to explaining how Alec’s admittance made him feel.

 

Nobody had ever called his eyes _beautiful_ , and they’d certainly never complimented him with such intense, honest meaning. Magnus grew to preen beneath compliments, thrived off the hungry looks that were sent his way, found exhilaration in drawing attention with how he styled himself, how he walked and talked and danced, but the responses were always self-serving; he hadn’t minded, because there was something very selfish about the way he teased and beckoned, just as there’d been something incredibly empty about the interactions.

 

Attention had never felt as fulfilling as when Alec gave it to him.

 

The simmering desire, pooled low in his gut, sparked to life when Alec trailed his thumb against the corner of Magnus’ eye, fingers stroking across his jawline. Magnus’ hand had fallen to Alec’s knee, the need for physical contact tripping like a livewire across his skin.

 

“Alexander,” Magnus remembered whispering Alec’s name, a divine utterance, because he hadn’t been able to think of anything else.

 

Alec’s smile had grown, if possible, a perfect blend of soft and sultry, the kind that Magnus is sure only he could pull off. “Just,” His tongue swiped against his bottom lip. “Just trust me.”

 

 _I do,_ Magnus had thought, _more than anything_. But he’d sat silent and impatient, gaze snagged by every miniscule movement from Alec’s part, trying to guess ahead of time what Alec would do next. He couldn’t, because he never expected Alec to lean forward, gaze locked on Magnus’, and press tiny, feather-light kisses against the corners of Magnus’ eyes, where aeons of laughter and stress had creased thin lines.

 

The kisses had transferred across Magnus’ fluttered eyelids, the brow of his nose, down the cut of his jaw and below, across the column of his neck, to the layered necklaces cascading down his chest. Magnus had attempted to remove them, citing an obstacle, but Alec’s hands had closed over his, a shy smile poking at his bright cheeks.

 

“Leave them?”

 

It was part-question, part-request, but Magnus has never been able to deny Alec anything.

 

“Okay,” He’d whispered, hands falling to his sides. “If that’s what you want.”

 

Alec had nodded, too shy to do much more, and then they were kissing, soft and slow, and Magnus was lowering Alec to the sheets, and it wasn’t picking up where they left off, so much as it was starting anew, from a place more open and _real_ than before.

 

Every touch held a deeper spark, every kiss a thrilling saga, every match in gaze a silent meaning that rang loud and clear, reverberating behind ribs and hearts. It wasn’t perfect, by any means, but it was special and, Magnus dares to claim, better than if he’d tried to force his glamour up.

 

With is warlock mark free and open, he didn’t have to hold anything back, he was able to lend himself to the moment, to Alec, with no barriers or walls between them, and it was – spectacular.

 

The kind of experience you don’t forget. Ever.

 

Afterwards, Alec had curled close, legs tangling with Magnus’, head pillowed over Magnus’ heart; he’d fiddled, idly, with Magnus’ necklaces, before intertwining their fingers, his fascination sliding to Magnus’ rings. Magnus’ attention never strayed from Alec, and the dizzying, half-smile that never faded.

 

He didn’t ask, if it was good, didn’t ask anything – he didn’t dare speak, for fear of ruining the composition of the atmosphere around them, the teetering balance between soft and heated. He’d coaxed Alec through it, after all, made sure that Alec kept an open line of communication, and admitted when something wasn’t working, and especially when it was.

 

The mutual satisfaction was clear, but beneath laid a murky stream of affection; Magnus knew, that he couldn’t deny the force of his feelings any longer. Love has always come for him, quick and hard, but never this strong. He can’t guarantee that Alec feels the same, not this early, so he’d pressed a kiss to Alec’s temple, trapping the words behind clamped teeth, and just held him close.

 

He can’t stand to lose Alec. He _won’t_.

 

* * *

 

**_I’m waiting for everything in your world, to align with my world._ **

 

 

Magnus is arranging candles, for “mood lighting” when his phone buzzes. He knows, before he has even picked it up, that it’s Alec, and the sinking feeling in his gut doesn’t speak to an impromptu ‘I love you’ text.

 

Not that they’ve said _that_ yet.

 

The candles extinguish before Magnus has even unlocked his phone, his magic responding to his innermost thoughts.

 

** Alexander <3: **

 

_Hey, Magnus. We got a tip, about a collective of circle members hoarding out in Queens; Iz and I have been sent out to investigate it, I’m so sorry that I can’t make our date, I wish I could but I have a feeling that Aldertree is testing me, and I don’t-_

_I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Promise._

\--

 

It’s not Alec’s fault, he knows, but Magnus can’t quench the disappoint that crashes over him. He hasn’t been able to see Alec in days, not for longer than a few snatched minutes, and it’s starting to cause a physical itch beneath his skin, an ache in the centre of his gut, to see Alec, to kiss him and touch him and make him blush that pretty way he does.

 

 _Not to worry, Alexander._ He texts back, even as his heart quivers in protest. _Duty calls, and your gallant Shadowhunter heart answers. I won’t go anywhere. Stay safe. xx_

He throws his phone onto the couch, the effect not enough to satisfy the urge inside of him to destroy something. It’s petulant, he knows, but he’s almost gotten used to having Alec around, and maybe that is half his problem, maybe he shouldn’t have let Alec bury his way so deep inside of his heart. But he has, now, and there’s nothing he can do to change it.

 

Magnus can only accept that this beautiful, sweet, dorky, charming Shadowhunter has become such an important part of his life, that the idea of him suddenly not being part of it is – impossible.

 

If someone told him, six months ago that he’d fall for a Shadowhunter – and a Lightwood at that – he would have laughed in their face, and inquired about the last time they interacted with Seelie magic, because they must be drunk on it.

 

Now, it is easier to accept his fate than to try and fight it, especially when Alec brings so much joy and light to Magnus’ life. Since meeting Alec, his state of quality has skyrocketed exponentially, and he almost can’t believe how he ever thought that he knew what true happiness, or even true love, felt like before Alec.

 

 _There’s that word again,_ he thinks, bitterly crossing towards his liquor cart. _Love._

 

He’s the kind of person who thrives off of being in love, but it’s hard when the other person doesn’t know, even harder when it’s _Alec_ , sweet, charming Alec – being in love with him isn’t like anything that Magnus has ever experienced before.

 

It’s – unexplainable.

 

Magnus has always found comfort in surety, in control and comfort, but every moment spent with Alec warps all he’s ever known; about Shadowhunters, about love, about _himself._

It’s unwise, he knows, to presume that he knows all there is about the world, and he’s hardly averse to learning, it’s one of the benefits of living for so long, the chance to be witness to waves of social change, evolutions of history and humankind and all the aspects that make life so interesting and important.

 

He had been under the, perhaps naïve notion, however, that he’d been through enough by now to _know_ himself; love has changed him in the past, but more because he’s moulded himself to fit the wants and needs of his partners, in disregard for his own.

 

Alec makes him … want to put himself first, more. He trusts Alec, trusts that if he chooses himself, from time to time, he won’t lose Alec – won’t lose arguably one of the most important people in his life.

 

It’s not a concept he’s used to, having all that he truly wants within his grasp, but he thinks he could, with time. With Alec.

 

If only this bastard war would cease it’s relentless siege; Magnus had become accustomed to the idea of Valentine being dead, and he can’t say he likes this recent spin on events. Valentine is poison, black and toxic sludge searing everything he touches, leaving nothing but death in his destruction – he is everything the concept of ‘good’ isn’t, and where Magnus has always preferred to toe the moral compass, there is no debate here.

 

Valentine must be stopped, and if Magnus can’t do anything about it, he’s glad that he can trust Alec. At that, he almost scoffs – him, trusting a Shadowhunter? Ragnor is probably rolling in his grave, if he’s even dead of course. Magnus has his doubts.

 

It all seems a bit too _easy_ , if he’s honest – knowing Ragnor, he’s probably hiding out somewhere secluded and safe, with little communication possible. He vowed the last time Valentine reared that he wouldn’t dally with Shadowhunter wars, they could fight their own battles, as far as he was concerned. Besides, the man can be rather daft, and tends not to keep track of time very well.

 

It is entirely possible that it was all an unfortunate accident, and he really is dead, but Magnus has always found denial a rather pleasant state of mind to sink oneself into, so there he stays.

 

Magnus pours himself a whiskey sour, then summons a serving of butter chicken from his favourite restaurant, and situates himself rather snugly on the couch. If he happens to flex a bit with the fabric of Alec’s spare leather jacket, and slip his rather toned arms into the sleeves, well, that’s just because he’s cold, and not because it smells a mix of ink, sandalwood, and that inherently _Alec_ scent.

 

Nope. He’s just cold.

 

In fact, he’s still cold when there’s a knock at his door a few hours later, so he doesn’t think to remove the jacket; a quick wave of his hand cleans up the mess left behind by dinner, the leftovers safely shelved in the fridge, leaving Magnus ample time to saunter over to the door, pondering over how polite he should be to the person on the other side.

 

It’s just after eleven, and whilst Magnus is known for keeping odd hours, he isn’t really in the mood for company – well, company that wasn’t already intended, that is. He’s not the type to turn away someone who desperately needs his help, but by the same token he refuses to indulge in anything less than an emergency; his services are, for all intents and purposes, closed for the night.

 

An emergency is the first thing Magnus thinks, when he opens the door and sees Alec on the other side, shifting his weight, the tips of his hair curled and tousled. He blinks, beads of water dripping down his nose, and a part of Magnus’ heart chips away.

 

“What happened?” He can’t think for the roaring of blood in his ears. “What do you need? Healing potions? Battle magic? Are you hurt? Are others-“

 

_“Magnus,”_

 

It takes him a minute to figure out that Alec is … he’s _laughing_. Tiny giggles he tries to hide behind his broad palm filtering between the gaps of his fingers. Magnus deflates, from something more akin to relief than embarrassment.

 

“I’m fine,” Alec assures him, eyes practically glittering, more valuable than treasures of diamonds and gold. “Everyone is fine. It was an outcrop group, an expendable distraction; Valentine never intended for them to live, but we managed to get a bit of information, here and there, that might help us piece more things together.”

 

He takes a hesitant step forward, hands fiddling before him. “But, I wouldn’t pass up a hello kiss? If you’re offering?”

 

He’s nervous, and so is Magnus, but Alec has a boldness to his character that pushes through any barriers holding him back, and Magnus missed him, dammit, and now it feels like he can breathe and maybe he’s falling too fast-

 

But it doesn’t feel like falling at all. It feels like coming home.

 

Alec reaches out, gripping Magnus’ jacket – _Alec’s jacket_ – tight, pulling Magnus forward, sighing into Magnus’ lips as metaphoric sparks fly. Magnus’ hands grasp the back of Alec’s neck, mindful yet careless about the damp hair, nothing of much importance bar the heat of Alec’s mouth against his and the feeling of soaring without wings.

 

“Question,” Alec whispers, his voice ghosting across the corner of Magnus’ mouth.

 

Magnus still has his eyes closed, tongue chasing the phantom taste of Alec’s kiss. He hums, the vibration nothing like the thrills still racing down his spine.

 

“Is that my jacket?”

 

At that, Magnus eyes widen, something knotting at the bottom of his spine. “Um.” Needlepoint heat pricks at his cheeks. “I was cold.”

 

“Magnus,” Alec is laughing, tender and sweet. “I don’t mind, I’m just – I didn’t think it would fit you.” His hands slide up, fingers wrapping around Magnus’ upper arms, tongue swiping at his bottom lip.

 

“I may have adjusted it a little,” Magnus sheepishly admits. “It’s terribly comfortable.”

 

Something darkens at the edges of Alec’s eyes. Magnus swallows past the lump in his dry throat. “It,” Appreciative is the only term for the way Alec stares. “It really suits you.”

 

Magnus raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

 

Alec nods, hands curling distractedly against Magnus’ biceps. “You should keep it.” He clears his throat, gaze shifting. “For when you get cold, of course.”

 

“Of course.” Magnus forgot how well Alec turned _charmed_ into a warm feeling. “I have a question, now.”

 

Alec nods, glancing up at Magnus through dark lashes and darkening eyes. “Yeah?”

 

Magnus tugs lightly on a strand of Alec’s damp hair. “Why so wet? Were you dumped in the East River or something?”

 

Blotches of red spot Alec’s cheeks. “Funny story,” He glances up at the ceiling, hand tightening against Magnus’ shoulder, thumb pressed to his neck. “I kind of … ran here? Through the rain?”

 

Magnus hadn’t even noticed it started raining outside, so caught up in his own misery, but all of that pales in comparison to the notion that Alec _ran through the rain_ to get – here. To Magnus.

 

“Alexander,” Magnus murmurs, leaning close. “Please never stop amazing me.”

 

“I’ll try not to.” Alec replies, smiling against Magnus’ lips.

 

Their world may be dark and seething with evil, but at least they have this, they have each other, they have something _good_ that makes the battle worth fighting.

 

* * *

 

**_I think of you while I sleep. I dream of what we could be if we grow, together unfold._ **

 

 

It’s not clear, when exactly Magnus had gotten used to sleeping with Alec beside him, but it’s stark when he has to sleep alone for the first time in almost half a week, because Alec’s been kept back saving the world or something – Magnus isn’t entirely sure, their world is such a mess at the moment, it’s hard enough to keep track of what he’s doing, let alone anybody else.

 

He treats himself to a whiskey nightcap on the balcony, his hopeless mind drifting to thoughts of Alec, his tousled dark hair and even darker runes, his sunshine smile and calm disposition; he wouldn’t partake in a drink, himself, but he’d sit out here with Magnus. Perhaps they’d talk, maybe they’d kiss a bit, or just take in the glittering sights with the presence that not every gap in conversation must be filled.

 

That’s one of Magnus’ favourite parts of being with Alec; yes, he’s a beautiful man, and the more intimate time they spend together is nothing short of magical, but Magnus adores the fact that he can just _be_ with Alec, in a way that he can’t with many others, a way he’s never been able to with previous partners.

 

He doesn’t have to be the High Warlock of Brooklyn, a strong and imposing figure, all crackling magic and flashing eyes – he can just be _Magnus_ , who coos over stray cats, and forgets to make his bed, and holes himself away in his study for hours longer than required because he’s been distracted by a book he’d forgotten he had.

 

Alec lets Magnus be himself. Alec lets Magnus feel – human, in the most exhilarating way.

 

Which, by unfortunate contrast, means that Magnus feels explicitly lonely when Alec isn’t around. He’s always been a fan of his own company, you have to be when you live for so long, but the knowledge that he won’t see Alec for a minimum eighteen hours, if not longer, is depressing.

 

In that, his mood is literally pressed down until happiness is nothing but a dull spark of imagined gold at the bottom of his glass. He downs it quickly enough, the glaring sounds of the city below a grating intrusion against his self-pitying thoughts.

 

He leaves the people with their happy, bustling lives behind the glass doors, sulking towards his bedroom with a lethargy that comes from a flair of dramatics and an attempt to make himself better, even in the process of feeling worse.

 

He’s being ridiculous, but he can’t find the energy to whip himself into shape – he misses Alec, misses his warmth, and his presence, and he knows that he won’t get a good night’s sleep anyway. He’s allowed to be a little petulant.

 

Okay, a lot petulant.

 

He scours off his makeup with a cloth, using his frustration to wipe every fleck of mascara and lingering smear of foundation until he’s left staring in barefaced contempt at the dour man in his mirror.  

 

Is this what love has done to him?

 

 _No_. Love has only given, it’s transformed him for the better – there’s nothing wrong with missing Alec, it just means that he has something special in his life, something he aches to part from.

 

Perhaps Magnus has become complacent in his selfish desire for everything Alec has to offer, because his sweet boyfriend gives more than he ever takes, and Magnus is rather used to the opposite; blood wasn’t the only thing Camille drained, and others, however fleeting, were never fully invested in the relationship.

 

They told him he simply felt more, that he was too clingy, too present, too much. Always, _too much_.

 

He was cautious, to not be so with Alec, to be carefully distant, to not push him away – it was Alec who stepped forward without retreat, Alec who took all that Magnus was willing to share, who was – who always has been – happy to wait for _Magnus_ to be ready.

 

Alec, who reassured Magnus that he wasn’t a lot to deal with, that he was the only thing that kept Alec stable in the rocky terrain their worlds are traversing. Alec, who continues to surprise Magnus, who never lets him forget that he’s _important_ to Alec.

 

Magnus stands from the dresser, cleaning the mess left behind with a sweep of his hand, as has become instinct – tiny, menial tasks were how he fine-tuned his magic, and he has no intention of changing that now.

 

The sheets are cold against his skin, uncomfortably so, and every position only increases the discomfort – it’s such as the old tale of the princess and the pea, except there’s no question of worth or merit here, just a lonely warlock and a bed that might as well be the pacific ocean for how far the edges stretch.

 

It’s ridiculous. Pathetic, even. It’s one night, it’s not as though he’d spent decades with Alec in his bed every night, there’s no reason he shouldn’t be able to survive _one night_ on his own. He’s done thousands of them before, now.

 

Magnus gives himself an hour, of needless tossing and turning, before he drags himself upright, summoning a cup of chamomile tea in an attempt to calm himself to sleep without magically altering his own constitution.

 

He’s tired, but restless, the sense of missing Alec a stronger force than his desire for sleep. He unlocks his phone, flicking through the short series of texts he’d exchanged with Alec, before Alec had been swept away by reports and expectations.

 

Over the course of their relationship, Alec’s methods of texting have evolved, and whilst he still doesn’t _entirely_ understand emojis, he is quite partial to a red heart here or there, and more than willing to transfer his startling honesty through the little green bubbles.

 

Magnus has never had a serious relationship in this digital age, and he’s hard-pressed to admit that he’s glad there’s no maze of texting etiquette to stumble through where Alec is concerned – it’s a relief, to be able to say whatever he wants.

 

** Magnus: **

 

_It is unfortunate, darling, but your duty has always been something you prioritised, I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when ~~I fell in love~~ we started this romantic dalliance xx_

  

** Alexander <3: **

 

_I know, and I knew that, out of everyone you’d understand, it just. It sucks._

** Alexander <3: **

 

_x_

** Magnus: **

 

_Sucks is certainly the term for it, but we always have tomorrow. How do you feel about a late lunch at Aurora? I can have a reservation made under the provision of complete privacy, if you’d like… xx_

** Alexander <3: **

 

_Sounds great, I’d love that. Anything with you sounds amazing right now x_

** Magnus: **

 

_I miss you too, Alexander xx_

That was the last text that had been sent, because Alec presumably had some gallant task to run off to, and Magnus had his liquor cabinet to entertain, but there’s more between the lines than a pinging notification could ever express. It doesn’t make Magnus miss Alec any less, the complete opposite, but it does help ease the ache a little.

 

Magnus tugs on one of Alec’s shirts, a pale blue cotton blend that he uses for training and cleaning - the bleach stains on the sleeves remind Alec of work he’s put in, effort that’s not been wasted, and even if the shirt is a little more worse for wear, it’s one he can’t part with.

 

Magnus is grateful for that, now, because the shirt smells of his boyfriend and even if it doesn’t help him sleep, it will help calm him down. He hopes.

 

\--

 

The shirt does more than just calm him down; it leads Magnus down a topsy-turvy rabbit-hole of dreams that start with Alec bending to his knee on the balcony, beneath a glittering canopy of fairy lights that transform into floating lanterns at their apparent wedding, the backdrop of which melts away to a cream and pastel nursery, complete with a dresser and mobile and crib, and of course a tiny blue-nosed baby..

 

The dreams flick past like filmstrip, faded around the edges, some tinted the same blue of his magic, but all of them carrying a punch-drunk sense of love, and hope. Hope, because even if it feels unlikely, this is one of many possible futures for Alec and himself.

 

The hope will be twisted by self-loathing when Magnus wakes, but for the time being, he lets himself dream.

* * *

 

****

**_I need to hear you, say it first. Come on baby, do your worst. I know you’ll take me higher_ _  
So come on darling, if you love me, say it first_ **

 

The battering of his heart against his ribs is almost enough to crack bone, his lungs squeezing with the lack of air it can get in, and there’s a wave of scorching acid pooling in the pit of his stomach, but it’s been hours, countless hours and Magnus doesn’t know if Alec is _okay._

 

Their last interaction hadn’t been on the best of terms, but all of that pales in comparison to the sinking fear that he might have lost Alec.

 

Alec is the kind to jump into the fire to save others from being burnt, and with Valentine parading around the Institute, the _Soul Sword_ in his possession, it’s not a stretch to think that Alec would do anything to stop the genocidal maniac from cementing his plans.

 

It’s Magnus’ blind luck that he was able to get Madzie safe and sound away from the strike zone, but that doesn’t ease his gut-wrenching fear; he can’t have lost Alec, not so early in their relationship, not before Magnus has even had the chance to tell Alec that he loves him.

 

They have too much left to do, together – not that Magnus thinks he’d ever be ready to lose Alexander Lightwood.

 

He portalled straight from Caterina’s flat in Parkville, to the street opposite the Institute; Shadowhunters are milling around the steps, bloody weapons strapped to the tattered holsters on their legs, hair in disarray, scrambling like ants in circles but none of them are _Alec_ and Magnus feels like throwing up.

 

He just needs to _see_ Alec, to ground himself in touch and reassure his erratic heart that Alec isn’t dead, because a world without Alexander Lightwood is not a world that Magnus wants to live in.

 

Magnus spins in tripping circles, scanning the horizon for just a glimpse of – a shock of dark hair catches his attention, and somehow, Magnus just _knows_. His legs carry him forward before his brain can catch up, his heart already shooting out his sleeve as his arm reaches to wrap around Alec’s elbow.

 

He doesn’t have a chance to speak, barely has a chance to move before Alec’s arms are wound tight around his back and he can finally breathe again. His fingers catch in the fabric of Alec’s jacket, head tucked into the curve of his neck, and nothing has ever felt more like coming home than being within Alec’s hold.

 

They pull back, Alec’s hand tightening against Magnus’ bicep, but not even distance could separate them anymore. Magnus can feel the words pressing against his throat, fighting to get out, and he wants to tell Alec, he’s about too, but Alec jumps the gun first.

 

_“Magnus, I thought-“_

 

Magnus remembers, then, what Madzie had told him, about a tall man with nice eyes, who she’d had to push aside, because she didn’t want to hurt him, she _didn’t_ – he reassures Alec, that she’s fine, touched in a dark corner of his soul that Alec had shown such care to a young warlock, despite his upbringing; but Alec has other things on his  mind.

 

Magnus will never, not in a thousand years, forget the words that Alec speaks next.

 

_“Magnus, on every mission I’ve ever been on, I’ve never felt that kind of fear, ever; not knowing if you were alive, or dead, I – I was terrified.”_

 

Magnus reaches out, the need to touch Alec scorching the underside of his skin, because he was terrified too, so badly that he was afraid he’d go blind from it, but it’s okay now, because they’re okay.

 

Magnus’ heart stops, again, when Alec speaks, because he’d been building up this moment for weeks, planning the perfect time to tell Alec, stressing over when would be the right time, and Alec just _says it_. Easy. Simple. Honest.

 

_“Magnus, I – I love you.”_

The second after stretches out, everything fading away behind him – the birds cease to chirp, traffic melts away, the hustle and bustle of New York ceasing to exist because nothing matters but Alec and the fact that Alec _loves him_ back.

 

Magnus says it back, low and sweet – he feels like he’s drowning, in the sheer and overpowering affection in Alec’s eyes, the slight turn to his mouth sending Magnus dizzy; he’d spent so long thinking that he could never have _real_ love, and here it is, right before him.

 

Here _Alec_ is.

 

Alec’s hands curve against his shoulders, a magnetic force between them pulling them forward; Magnus’ hands get caught in the tails of Alec’s jacket, and there’s a bit of bumping for a second, but the kiss is perfect, the moment is perfect, because it’s _theirs_.

 

Magnus can’t predict the future, he couldn’t have guessed that he’d find true love in a Shadowhunter’s open heart, nor that he’d confess such love outside the New York Institute, after _Valentine_ had resurged, but he’s never been a fan of predictability anyway.

 

Magnus has always lived for the hard and fast, the glitz and glamour and anything that has his blood singing and his heart thumping; Alec does all of that, and more. Alec makes Magnus feel alive, and adored and loved and special, and if it takes Magnus the rest of their time together to prove how much Alec means to him, then it would be an honour.

 

It seems ridiculous, now, to ever be afraid of loving Alec.

 

Alec is the best thing that has ever happened to him, he’s what makes life worth living again, and Magnus knows that things won’t be perfect, they’re bound to fight and argue and say things that they don’t mean, but at the end of the day, they’ll always have each other.

 

In Alec’s heart, Magnus has finally found his home.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> love, gratitude and a thousands hugs to [sam](https://twitter.com/alecwinchesterr) for always being effortlessly supportive, [madi](https://twitter.com/wideyedmalec), for being the best damn hypewoman anyone could ask for and screaming in caps when I needed it the most; to [sara](https://twitter.com/ssaralarssons) for being the backbone this fic needed, and of course my dear force sister [mary](https://twitter.com/artistmow) for being there every step of the way, and smoothing over the wrinkles I hadn't seen. 
> 
> \---
> 
> and once again, the biggest, warmest happy birthday to Lu - oh and, by the way my darling, the offer of a free prompt is open for you, too <3 should you ever have something you'd like me to write for you ...
> 
> \--
> 
>  
> 
> links - for those interested:
> 
> twitter: [ninwrites](https://mobile.twitter.com/ninwrites) for fic stuff/updates/snippets + [malteser_24](https://mobile.twitter.com/malteser_24) for general fandom mess + small threads  
> tumblr: I've recently moved accounts - now, I have a writing tumblr, which you can find [here](https://ninwrites.tumblr.com/)
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> \- Nin ❤


End file.
